Hope Wins
by Thepopcornpup
Summary: "I don't know why, but whenever I saw a big tree or a wall or building, I'd look up it and try to figure out how close to the sky I could get. There was some kind of freedom in being off the ground. Maybe because the ground is where all the problems happened." (Jack's POV) (One-shot)
**Author's Note: Hello again!** **This story was originally published in a collection of one-shots, but I decided that I preferred to publish my one-shots separately. :)**

 **Anyway, this story kind of wrote itself? I just started writing from Jack's point of view, and this happened. I'm glad it did though, because I really don't give Spot Conlon enough love. Despite the fact that I've never written about him before, I love Spot. (But, he's a _hard_ character to write!)**

 **Enough of my rambling! I hope you guys enjoy the story, and if you did, I'd love it if you left a review! And, please give me some prompts if you have any! :) Thanks for reading!**

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You know that kid who was always climbing trees when you were little? That kid who'd go to the park and find the highest tree there was (or, the highest tree his mother would let him climb, anyway)? The kid who'd walk around the tree in a circle, trying to find the perfect way to scale it? Then, he'd adjust his too-big cowboy hat and latch onto one of the branches with his hand that's connected to an arm that's too skinny, because they haven't been paying Dad as much as they used to, so food's been real scarce. He'd push himself up and move his hand to the next branch. He'd climb up and up until he got as high as he could. Then, he'd sit in the tree for a while, grinning and pretending he could see the whole world from where he was perched on a branch covered in orange leaves. He'd stay up there until the sun started to set. Then, he'd point at that sun and shout, "Hey, look, Ma! It's just like Santa Fe! But, the sunsets there are even better, ain't they?" After that, he'd chuckle and start climbing down as slowly as possible, trying to stay up in that tree for as long as he could because it made him feel free. You know that kid? Yeah, that kid was me.

I don't know why, but whenever I saw a big tree or a wall or building, I'd look up it and try to figure out how close to the sky I could get. There was some kind of freedom in being off the ground. Maybe because the ground is where all the problems happened.

So, maybe that's why when the Bulls was after me, I knew right where I wanted to go. After being kicked to the street and having to steal just to get by, only to get caught by the cops straight away, my first instinct was to scale the first building I saw. Any guy walking by would've seen a skinny, bruised nine-year old in a cowboy hat climbing up the fire escape of a big tall building that day. Any guy except the Bulls, to my luck.

I sat up there, panting and dirty. But, hey, I made it. I had a bit of food, too, and a jacket. They were stolen, but I had them. And, that's all I had. A stolen jacket, stolen food, the clothes on my back, and a cowboy hat and bandana. That's all.

I stayed on that roof for a while. I slept up there for months. I spent almost every waking hour up there all by myself, only going down when I had find some food. And, as I sat on that roof, I tried to forget. I pushed the past as far as it would go away, and tried to make a future for myself. I had one, didn't I? I couldn't, I wouldn't end up like my dad. No, I had a future, and a good one, even if I was just some poor kid living on a roof.

How was I gonna get there, though?

I had no clue.

But, I was hopeful. I was also hopeless. And, the hopelessness tried to outweigh the hopefulness. Some days, hope won, though. But, most days, hope lost.

On one of those losing days, it was cold and getting dark. I still hadn't eaten dinner. Heck, I hadn't eaten all day. My stomach hurt, and bad. It felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I needed food.

Of course, the Bulls were still after me. Why they were chasing some nine year old kid when there were worse fellas out there, I had no clue. But, there was nothing I could do about it.

Trying to ignore the fact that the cops were on my tail, I did what had to be done and stole some more food.

But, my luck ran out. The cops spotted me. Immeadietly, I ran straight for my roof, and they followed.

Crap. Where did I go now? If I went on the roof, they'd know where I was, and they could come get me anytime they wanted. That ain't good. I'd have no place to live.

Then again, did I really have a place to live at that point, anyway?

Whether or not that roof could be called a home, I couldn't lose it. I swerved away from the building I was headed for and scrambled into an alley a few blocks down. I tumbled into the corner and landed in some dirty snow. I watched as the cops ran past, feeling relief fill my head.

But, that relief went away quickly as I realized that I had no clue where I was. And, it was dark. Not that Jack Kelly was scared of the dark or anything...but I was. (Cut me some slack, I was nine.) A warm tear fell on my cheek, and then another...

"Hey, who's snifflin' back here?"

I spotted a shadow in the darkness. _Is it the Bulls?_

But, the shadow stepped closer to reveal a tough-looking boy who was about my age. He was short, real short, but he wasn't puny. Despite his height, he was still somehow intimidating. "Who's cryin'?" He asked, looking slightly disgusted.

I stood up and hurriedly wiped away my tears. "I ain't cryin'," I mumbled indignantly.

"Really?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Then, what's with the tears in your eyes?"

I swatted at my tears again. "I ain't got any tears," I argued, folding my arms.

The boy looked me up and down. "What'cha doin' here, kid?" He asked.

"Hey, I ain't no kid!" I frowned. "I's almost ten."

"Whatever," The boy scoffed. "So's I. But, why're you here? And, what's with the hat?"

"It's a cowboy hat," I said, dodging his first question. "I'm goin' to Santa Fe someday."

"Really?" He chuckled. "How're ya gettin' there, Cowboy?"

"Train," I answered shortly.

"Those ain't free, you know," He said, leaning against the wall.

"I know," I frowned. "I'm not stupid."

"Well, now answer my other question, then," The boy stared straight at me. "Why're you hidin' in some alley?"

"Why're you?" I challenged.

"I ain't hidin' from anything!" The boy replied, insulted. "I hide from nothin'. You was clearly hidin' from somethin', though. What is it? The Delancey's beatin' you?"

"The Bulls," I mumbled.

The boy nodded thoughtfully. "Why?"

"I done nothin' wrong," I said defensively.

"Neither did half of the kids they got locked up in the Refuge," He responded quickly with spite.

I shuddered, either from the cold or the fear of the Refuge.

He examined me. "You got some place to go, Cowboy?"

I remained still.

The boy raised his eyebrows. "Huh?"

I shrugged. "Kind of."

"Whaddya mean, 'kind of'?" The boy asked, shaking his head. "Either you got some place or you don't."

"I got a roof," I muttered. "But, it's not really mine."

The boy paused, looking like he was thinking for a moment before saying, "You don't got folks, do you?"

I shook my head.

"Yeah," The boy nodded. "I don't either."

After another pause, he told me, "You know, I bet Manhattan could use a kid like you."

"We're in Manhattan," I said obviously.

"I mean, the Manhattan Newsies," He snapped, quickly becoming exasperated with me. "I'm a Brooklyn Newsie. I'm over here because one of these Manhattan guys, Race, owed me from a bet we made."

I stared at him blankly."So?"

The boy glared at me. "Don't you 'so' me. Gee, you'se just askin' to be soaked, huh?"

I shook my head vigorously, which caused him to laugh smugly,as if he'd achieved some great success. "I ain't gonna soak ya," He chuckled. "Not now, anyway." He added, glancing at me. "You got a name, Cowboy?"

"Jack Kelly," I answered.

"Spot Conlon," The boy spit on his hand and held it out to me.

I glanced at it.

"What's wrong?" He asked, still holding his hand out. "Ain't you ever done a spit shake before?"

I shook my head for what had to be the twentieth time that night.

Spot laughed again. "Boy, you don't know nothin', do ya?"

I frowned. Then, I spit on my hand indignantly and held it out to him.

Spot smirked. "There you go, Jackie-boy!" He grabbed my hand and shook it.

I felt a smile playing on my lips as we shook hands.

When he let go, he seemed to soften a bit, as if he were letting down some kind of wall, which appeared to be hard for him. "Well, listen to me, Jackie-boy," He said. "See where you are? I know what that's like. Livin' on the streets with no folks...yeah, I know all about that. But, hey, I got someplace you can stay. It's got a bed and everything. How 'bout that?"

I smirked. "That sounds nice."

Spot grinned. "And, then, in the mornin', you could sell some papes, and get some money in your pocket. How's that sound?"

"That'd be great," I smiled.

Spot's grin widened upon seeing my smile. "Yeah. Life as a Newsie ain't perfect, trust me. It's far, far from it. But, it's better than sleepin' on the streets and starvin'. So, I'm gonna take you to the Manhattan Lodging House, okay?"

"Okay," I said, nodding.

Spot fished in his pocket for something. He pulled out a few coins, something I hadn't seen in forever. He held them out in front of me and said, "Here's some money to pay for the Lodging House and for your papes in morning," Then, toughening up as quickly as he'd put his walls down earlier, he added, "But, hey, as soon as you makes some money, you'se payin' me back. This ain't charity, Jackie-boy, got that?"

"Got it," I grinned as he dropped the coins in my hand. "Thank you."

Spot allowed himself to grin, too. "Good. I'm expectin' you in Brooklyn soon, Cowboy."

"I'll be there," I assured him.

"Right then," Spot pulled back his shoulders and began to head out of the alley. I trailed behind him, adjusting my hat as I caught up to him.

Spot smirked at me and playfully shoved the cowboy hat over my head. Startled, I fumbled for the brim of the hat and grabbed it. I pulled the hat back up clumsily to see Spot, just about doubled over with laughter. "You shoulda seen your face when I did that, Jackie-boy!" He exclaimed through laughter.

I narrowed my eyes and smirked slyly at him. Then, I ran up and pulled his newsboy cap over his eyes. I ran ahead of him then, laughing as I went along.

Spot pulled it back up quickly and shouted, "Oh, you'se really gonna get soaked now, Jackie-boy!" He shouted, but he was smiling.

And, in that moment, hope finally won.


End file.
